Catherine
by 4give4get
Summary: Kitty Bennet. Lucky, young, day-dreaming of her own fairy tale, and longing for a sucessful marriage. But perhaps some things are too good to be true... Sequel to 'Mary'
1. Chapter 1

**Title-**** Catherine**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rated-**** T**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing.**

**Serena- Keep in mind, THIS IS A SEQUEL. Won't make much sense unless you read ****Mary**** first. Thanks for reading, and thanks to anyone who also read ****Mary.**** Speaking of Mary Bennet, here's her sister…**

_Chapter One…_

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single girl of almost eighteen years not even in possession of a decent pair of shoes must be in want of a prince to randomly fall in love with her and shower her with gems of all sorts and let her drink ice water for the rest of her life.

But since that is not likely to happen, seeing as fairy tales have little in common with real life, a fairly-wealthy man in possession of a decent sized house is what she'd most likely have to settle with. If she ever married at all.

Of course, Catherine Bennet was always expected to be able to find a husband with out much difficulty. Why not? She was fairly fortunate in looks, and her disposition was relatively agreeable… _most _of the time. When she wasn't flirting with officers, perhaps…

But her flirting days were pretty much done once Lydia ran off. If she even looked at an officer after that, her father roughly reminded her of a monkey throwing poo. Was that not what monkeys did in the wild forests of Africa? She knew not. Kitty read the occasional novel to pass time, but was never very passionate about reading and never got much into the story.

Well, with one exception. Every girl has a certain skeleton in their closet—something embarrassing they hide from the rest of the world. And Kitty's skeleton was in the very form of a book of fairy tales. She had memorized _Snow White_ word for word. She read _Repunzel _at least a hundred times. Others included _Prunella, Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella,_ and _The Magic Swan Geese._ But Kitty's favorite by far was _Vasilissa the Beautiful._

She had first come across her fairy tale book at the fairly old age of fourteen. Fourteen-year-old girls were not supposed to have such obsessions, but Kitty did anyway. Of course, she'd heard many of them before, but enjoyed reading them often, until she was randomly thumbing through it one day to the beginning page of _Vasilissa the Beautiful._

From the beginning Kitty could relate to Vasilissa. Vasilissa had many sisters, most of them older. Her family discouraged any sort of ties with her and young men because it was not considered virtuous. Sound like Catherine Bennet yet?

Of course, then her father remarries the Evil, Horrid, Ugly Stepmother. That isn't quite true to Kitty's life, but it still was a good story. And then Vasilissa comes across Baba Yaga, and asks her to borrow some fire from her hearth, since the last of theirs had gone out. Baba Yaga was on old, old, witch-woman who consents, only by the promise that Vasilissa must perform tasks for the fire or be killed. Vasilissa is so clever that she performs each and every nearly impossible task and shocks Baba Yaga.

The old witch woman sends her home with a skull on a stick with luminescent eyes that provided light. The skull burnt her stepmother to ash and finally Vasilissa was allowed to leave their tiny village to become a cloth-weaver's assistant in the capital city of Russia. She grew so skilled at the loom that the czar himself heard of her and made a special visit to see her. Then he and Vasilissa married and the common, Russian girl became a czarina and lived happily ever after.

Of course, Kitty did not see a czar coming for her in the near future. No, in fact the only thing she did see was Lizzy's constant mutterings on how if Lydia hadn't destroyed the Bennet name before, Mary sure did now by spending over a month in an insane asylum before eloping with an American.

"They do not care at all, do they?" her sister demanded as they took tea in her private sitting room, "People talk, and oh, it's just horrid!"

"Lizzy, I don't think either Lydia nor Mary care very much if people talk of them," Kitty reminded her, "No, obviously not."

"They should. If not for themselves, but for you, myself, and our sister Jane!" Elizabeth pointed out.

"What does it matter to you and Jane?" Kitty asked, "You are married already."

Lizzy then launched herself into a speech how appearances still count even after one is married. The way she spoke, Kitty thought it sounded like they'd never be able to show their faces in public again. She silently drank her tea as her sister lectured on, while she simply daydreamed about czars.

.x.X.x.

Indeed, two days earlier Kitty had received the following letter:

_Kitty,_

_I suppose I really ought to apologize ahead of time for leaving my dear baby sister in England while I am off to America. Yes, you are not going mad—AMERICA! I write in haste—the sun soon rises and we shall board our ship._

_Ah! I speak too fast, I say 'we' and mean James Latimer and I. Do not you recall him? The one I told you about a month ago at Pemberly? I've married him, I write to you now as Mary Latimer, can you believe it?_

_How is Miss Bingley fairing? Yes, I do write in jest. Send her my love—no, wait, you'd better not. But know I am thinking of her with earnest. I shall miss you more than words can say, but I shall also miss Mr. Ashby a tad more, I think._

_Alright, I am sorry—I shall be serious from here forth. I trust you'll send word of this to Lydia. I would myself, but I know not here current address. Tell Lydia I think of her each time I pass someone in a red uniform and the fun you'd have. And the fun I'd have lecturing you like an old woman. Those were fine days._

_Do show this letter to darling Lizzy if you wish, although something tells me she shan't be as happy for me as you are. If you don't wish to anger her, I give you full permission to burn this letter upon its arival. Either way, I shall visit you in the next few years, although I might just be coming back to have another go with Miss Bingley._

_Write often and tell me of how Miss Bingley's old-maidhood is coming. I care to hear it all._

_Yours in Love and Light,_

_Mary_

And Kitty was delighted for Mary. She had never met the infamous James Latimer, but knew if he weren't worth much, Mary wouldn't have consented to marry him. He must be wicked smart, and likely rather arrogant, but that was better than someone stupid and backboneless. And she also was delighted to see Lizzy's face of distaste as she showed her the letter.

"She was supposed to have been in London!" she seethed, slapping the letter down on the table.

"What do you mean in London?" Kitty perked her head up, "I never heard anything about Mary being in London!"

"Well, Mother told me not to tell this to you. She said it would upset you too much. But now I don't see the harm in you knowing," Lizzy sighed, "Mother sent Mary to an institution in London to help her with that unnatural phase she was going through. But it doesn't seem to have worked."

"An institution?" Kitty repeated, eyes widening, "You mean an asylum?"

"In foreword terms," she admitted, "She must have gotten out somehow."

"You mean Mother sent Mary to an asylum in London for reading some strange books?" Kitty demanded, standing up from her chair, "How could she have done such a thing? Our poor sister!"

"It was the best sort of care she could have gotten. If a month in a windowless cell doesn't fix her of her absurdity, what wouldn't?"

"Mary is as sane as you or I," Kitty told her, sitting back down again, "Well, all's well that ends well, right?"

Yes, it was no use dwelling on the thought of her sister in a prison when she was no longer even there. Kitty was surprised to see what her own parents were capable of. She knew they never liked Mary much, but never would have guessed they'd resort to such a thing! But Mary was happily married now, so all was indeed well. Lizzy did not think so.

"I doubt even that asylum would have cured her. She is so stubborn she would be content to live there the rest of her life before giving in."

"And that is a bad thing? Mary is very opinionated, that's all. She doesn't give in to her beliefs," Kitty said, "I'm rather proud of her."

"I expected you would be," Lizzy said, "But after Lydia ran off, and all of this mess happened with Mary, I always knew that without the proper guidance you'd follow in their footsteps. That's why I asked you to come to Pemberly last spring. I've determined to keep you from disgracing yourself."

"How would I disgrace myself?" Kitty wanted to know.

"Look at the influence you've got. Eloping with rogues like that Wickham? Vulgar books and asylums? Eloping with an American? Catherine, the odds are against you to turn out respectable."

Kitty was not very used to people belittling her in such a manner. She did not know quite how to argue back. She glanced out the window and longed for Mary to be there who would argue, force her opinions down Lizzy's throat and then win. Kitty could never do such a thing.

She had often wished to have more of Mary's traits. Kitty did not like someone to be upset in her presence, and usually let people walk all over her, if it meant they'd be happy. Mary could care less if people were upset by her.

But there were many other things on her mind of much more importance. She would be eighteen years old by December, and she still was on square on as to finding a husband. Mrs. Bennet wrote her often, hinting at it. And after she received Mary's letter, she saw she would be the fifth and last daughter to get married.

Even Lizzy seemed to hint at such a thing. So she did bring her to Pemberly so she might keep her away from Mary, but it was likely also to find someone for her—perhaps an acquaintance of Mr. Darcy's. Who knows? And Kitty did feel the pressure.

Of course, to say she wasn't excited when she arrived at Pemberly to would be a lie. But before they quite made it, the carriage wheel got stuck in a mud hole. Everybody climbed out, while the driver and another man tried to push the thing out, it didn't seem to budge. Kitty was too excited to be tired, as her chaperone—her aunt complained, and tapped her foot on the cobblestone in anxiety.

"Won't you stop that?" her aunt snapped, "I dare say it is utterly annoying!"

"I am sorry," Kitty sighed, and stilled her foot, but couldn't help but still jump in joy.

"Oh, I do hope they'd hurry and push harder," she said again, "I feel as though I could collapse!"

Indeed, the two men were making little progress with the carriage. It stuck like glue. In what little moonlight they had, Kitty could make out a dark figure running down the street. As it got closer, she saw it was only a boy of about twenty, rather pink in the face from running. The men hailed him over and asked if he might help push.

"I'm only going home, sir, but I suppose I might," he replied, and took a place by the other two and they heaved again. This time it moved halfway out, and on the second push, it was completely free.

"What a delightful young man!" her aunt exclaimed, "We couldn't have continued our journey without him!"

"Yes," Kitty said to the first statement, "Certainly not," she said to the last.

"I do believe thanks are in order," she said, smoothening her skirts, "Come now, Catherine."

Kitty merely followed her aunt who boldly approached the boy and thanked him while introducing herself.

"This is only my niece, just Kitty," she said, waving her hand in her general direction, "And yourself?"

"Taliaferro Stratton," the boy enthused, "At your service," he swept his hat off of his head and made a low bow. Her aunt giggled at his gallantry like a little girl. Kitty just eyed him strangely.

_What a little runt he is!_ she thought, just to have something to ridicule. But really, he was not exceptionally large, but definitely not exceptionally small. Kitty was simply not used to a polite boy.

"Miss Kitty," he acknowledged her with the only name he had been given, "Do forgive me."

"Catherine Bennet," she said shortly.

"Perhaps we shall see each other again," he said with a smile as he disappeared back into the darkness.

And they did see each other again. It seemed that Kitty could not take a walk to the town (Pond-on-Avon, it was called) without happening to chance upon Taliaferro Stratton. It was only a week before they were on regular speaking terms with one another. Kitty swore to herself that she just felt sorry for him. And after that came his nickname of Strat.

And only a few weeks after that he confessed his unending love for her. Of which, Kitty turned him down in the nicest way possible. She did not like others to be upset by her.

And now the gentle reader must know that the story really begins for our heroine on a fairly warm mid-September day. Kitty dressed in a gown of pale blue and wore her bonnet with a matching ribbon. Light sky blue was her favorite color, which had nothing to do with the color of her eyes.

She examined her face in the mirror. She was fairly happy with what she saw. Fair skin with small pink roses on her cheeks. Her face wasn't so defined, but could be considered handsome all the same. Her hair was the darkest of all of her sisters—a dark brown. Rather common.

Kitty was going to town to meet a certain friend of hers. Which Lizzy knew nothing about, by the way. Taliaferro Stratton was a law student, she had found out. He was a nice boy, although she did _not _even flirt with him. No, she shouldn't be giving people hope that had none. She knew she couldn't marry Strat! The idea was laughable!

Of course, she had resolved to stop seeing him—a friend like Strat always seemed suspicious. Also, there was the fact that she should be more concerned with trying to find a husband. She needed to make sure that he heard her refuse him once and for all. So after she was dressed she quickly left on her walk to the town of Pond-on-Avon—roughly a few miles from Pemberly.

The town was not so pathetically small. Near the size of Meryton, perhaps a little larger. The university was a stately brick building and quite large with a full green yard. The trees were just beginning to turn, and Kitty admired the scenery. Surely, the such a beautiful day could not even be described in the many fairy tales she read.

She saw someone dashing across the yard, his hair in utter disarray, his shirttails too long, and books piled in his hands. She recognized the sandy brown hair as Taliaferro Stratton's. He dropped a few and as he bent to pick them up, dropped two more in the process. Kitty laughed and ran to meet him. His eyes glanced up at her as he picked up the last book and grinned widely.

"Do you need some assistance in carrying those?" she offered to help.

"Not at all," he stood up, "What sort of gentleman lets a lady carry his books, hmm?"

"If you're sure," Kitty sighed, and they began to walk back down the path, "Where are you going with those anyway, Strat?"

"Just dropping them back off at the library on our way," he told her, trying to point ahead with his face, "Can you see it just up that hill?"

"I can," Kitty answered, "Now why did you want to see me, anyhow?"

"Oh, how I must have inconvenienced you, Miss Catherine," he sighed, sarcastically as they began to climb the hill, "What? Does that dastardly sister of yours insist that you're under her nose always?"

"Do not call her dastardly," Kitty intervened, "She may be over-protective, but she is my sister, after all."

Strat was one of the nicest people she'd ever met. Of course, with the exception of when he was talking about Elizabeth. He was rather shy around other people, and not as tough as all of the other men Kitty had encountered. He seemed to be more emotional and sympathetic. Which is likely why she formed an actual friendship with him instead of just trashy flirting. He brought out the best in her.

He returned the books to the library, and they settled in a teashop near the university. Kitty tapped on her glass as she stared at him across the table. How did she put this, anyway? She couldn't marry a law student! And somehow whenever she was around Strat, it wasn't as it described love in any sort of fairy tale.

Not to mention Strat was a law student, not a czar.

"Kitty," he sighed, "I know what you are going to say…"

"Well, then that saves me my breath," she retorted, softly blowing on her tea to cool it.

"But what _I _am going to say is this: I may be only one-and-twenty, but soon I will have graduated and I'll be a lawyer. And I'd be a successful one too, Kitty! I know it's what I was meant to do. If you married me…" he quickly began, but Kitty quieted him with a raise of her hand.

"I _can't _marry you, Strat," she said quietly, not bearing to look into her eyes as she said this.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because…" she stumbled for the right words, "It's complicated, I…"

"Do you love me?" he asked, firmly.

"I—I don't know," Kitty sighed, and gathered her handbag and stood up, "Good luck with school, Strat." She did not walk, but ran away, unable to bear the scene for much longer.

Why did Strat make her hurt him so much? If he had never even proposed to her, none of this would have happened—their relationship wouldn't be like this. They would just be good friends—as always. She rubbed her forehead, and slowed to a very brisk walk.

She felt rather like her life was based more off of _Prunella _than _Vasalissa the Beautiful_. Prunella, who just kept turning down the witch's son, Bensiabel. But Prunella does not end up with a czar in the end, but actually does marry Bensiabel. That made Kitty frown in distaste and then stop walking and laugh at her own folly. Look at her! Living her life by fairy tale terms!

"That is enough," she said aloud, hoping to plant a seed of doubt in her head. Whether or not it worked, she never thought of, because she heard a voice speak from behind her.

"Kitty! Are you talking to yourself?" she whirled around to see that Lizzy was standing in a green day gown and parasol with an old woman wearing an old fashioned gown with elbow-length sleeves. Kitty almost slapped her forehead. And here she was thinking she was sneaking away from Pemberly, but really only following her sister there!

"Yes—I mean, no," Kitty stumbled for worlds.

"No matter, this is my sister, Miss Bennet," she said to the old woman, "She's been at Pemberly with Mr. Darcy and I for over four months now. It is truly a wonder she was not introduced before! Kitty, this is Lady Susan, a rather close neighbor of ours."

"Your Ladyship," Kitty greeted her, furious over how mad she must have sounded speaking to herself in front of the great lady.

Lady Susan was, as I have mentioned, old. Impossibly old. Seventy years perhaps, which was an age not many lived to see in 1811. Her skin was pasty and wrinkled like any old woman's would be. Her eyes were gray and rather tired-looking and her forehead was wide. Her mouth was pursed and her hair pure white. Kitty realized she had likely never seen someone so old. And the way she dressed and carried herself, she would estimate (correctly so) that the woman was quite wealthy indeed. Kitty noted also for this estimate that she had rings donned on her fingers and a beautiful pearl necklace around her neck.

"It is certainly a pleasure to meet such a young woman," Lady Susan nodded at her, "Let us have dinner together, why not?"

"The honor is ours!" Lizzy exclaimed, going on and on. Kitty only bit her lip and went along as she followed them down the street.

"And who spat in your bean curd?" Lady Susan muttered to her, when Lizzy was not looking.

"I am sure I don't know what you mean," Kitty sniffed.

"Humph, what a little brat you are!" Lady Susan turned her head away, "Back when I was your age, girls weren't so defensive."

"I am not being defensive," Kitty seethed, "You are being foreword!" Her voice was much louder than she had intended, and Lizzy turned around, having heard her and bade she apologize at once. Which, Kitty most reluctantly did.

_Mary would have never apologized to her,_ she realized sadly, _nor would Lydia._

But unfortunately, that is the disposition of our heroine. But the gentle reader must know, that under her shy, fearful, exterior, Kitty Bennet was mostly selfish. Indeed, her mind was usually on the advancement of herself, was it not? But perhaps such thoughts are necessary for success.

And that is what started the disagreement between her and Lady Susan. Did Lady Susan see the quiet, reserved girl that most people saw? No, she saw the selfish, self-interested Kitty that only she herself was aware of.

The whole meal, no friendly words were exchanged between the two. In fact, they were hardly civil. At any rate, once back in her chamber at Pemberly, Kitty beat the wall with her pillow and muttered profanities under her breath. The day had not gone well.

_Poor Strat… And that miserable cur of a woman! Why doesn't she mind her own business!_ Kitty whacked her pillow extra hard against the wall and then stomped her foot in anger.

Her sock feet slipped on the waxed wooden floor and she landed on her rump rather hardly. She moaned in pain, and punched her abused pillow, before grabbing it and screaming into it for ten whole seconds.

When she pulled her face up, panting for breath she threw it as forcefully as she could against the door and let herself fall back to the floor, staring at the ceiling. As she caught her breath again, she picked herself up and flopped down on the bed, horrible guilt still racked her body when she thought of how the day had passed.

_Why does Strat let me hurt him?_

She picked up her worn fairy tale book and flipped to the beginning page of _Vasalissa the Beautiful_ and lost herself and each of her troubles in the story. And Baba Yaga was more interesting and fearful each time she reread it. And even as she put the book down and blew out her candle to sleep, she dreamed of czars again, Strat and Lady Susan the farthest thing from her mind.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Ack. This chapter was all over the place. My alter egos say so, which means it's true. Just so you know, my alter egos are Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte, who wrote very many successful books, so I take their word for it.**

**Anyway, please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title-**** Catherine**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rated-**** T**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing. I am just a slave to this story.**

**Serena- Yeah.**

**Thanks for the review, ****Lucille Brown****.**

_Chapter Two…_

_Kitty,_

_How is Lizzy? She likely doesn't want to hear from me, so don't mention me to her if you don't wish to do so. I am so horribly confused I don't suppose I have got anyone else to turn to but you. A letter would take far too long to reach Mary. (I cannot believe she is in America!)_

_I do believe marrying Wickham was a mistake. And Mary advised me against it in her letter so many months ago, didn't she? Kitty, I know my case is lost now, my life is set and I cannot change it. But just be careful the same does not happen to you._

_But I am so upset with myself. I want to be home more than ever. Dear Kitty, please say I'll be able to see you soon. Wickham is horrible. He always gambles any money we do have away, and I fear our situation could become dire. But I don't want to plague your mind with such things._

_Write me of Pemberly and if you hear anything from Mary._

_-Your sister, Lydia_

Kitty crumbled the note in her hand and punched the wall with all of the force she could muster. Pain began in her knuckles and then shot down her whole entire arm, causing her to shake out her hand and grimace in utter pain. But the wall did not fall before her, nor did all of Pemberly feel her wrath and collapse into dust as she might have hoped from that single blow. The wall stood straight and hard with not even a mark, while her throbbing fist grew redder and more irritated by the second. Bruises began to form.

The gentle reader probably recognizes that our heroine has a temper when she's alone in a room where nobody but herself will see it. Just one more addition to the disposition she hides beneath her quiet, reserved one. As a child, she never hid herself. At Longbourn she'd smash plates and kick furniture and scream as much as she wanted. But it didn't seem quite appropriate to do so in her sister's new house she curbed her tantrums (with good reason) to none at all. Well, except for when she was alone in her chamber where no one else would see it.

Kitty did not remember ever being sad in any of her memories, merely angry. When she got upset, she wouldn't cry, or mope around, she'd just scream and carry on in a way that was hardly considered ladylike, but when she was truly that upset she did not specifically care.

But as she let herself fall onto her bed, ignoring her painful hand, she truly felt a horrible, broken-hearted feeling in her chest that she could not seem to punch out of her system. How could she have been upset over Strat? Her own sister was so miserable! Kitty was the elder of the two and should be able to make it all better, but she couldn't.

How do you fix an unhappy marriage? A marriage that was more than affectionless, but made worse by bloody Wickham's gambling habits? She sat back up on her bed, anger pulsing through her body, as she imagined the face of her little sister's husband.

How dare he hurt her so much? Her own sister! If she ever saw him again, Kitty vowed to give him a piece of her mind, not caring if Lizzy and Jane _both _saw it and disowned her. Her fingers curled and her fingernails dug indents into her palms.

She imagined using her nails to peel all of his flesh off of his face. Her jaw was clenched, but she let it open. And Kitty did not know very many swear words. How would she, considering where she had spent her childhood years? But she did like to pretend she did.

"Crumbs," she said loudly.

"Miss Catherine?" a knock pounded on the door, "Are you quite alright in there? I do believe I heard a bang."

Kitty jumped off of her bed and hurried to the other side of the room, sliding on her socks half of the way there to slam her windows shut, the clanking sound rather loud. She cringed.

"Capital!" she proclaimed, "I'm capital, Mrs. Reynolds!"

As she said it, she backed up into a table rather hardly and sent a white vase, with oriental trees painted around the outside clattering to the floor. The shattering sound froze Kitty right where she was as she stared at the broken glass on the floor.

"What on earth was that?" Mrs. Reynolds demanded, the door flying open, to reveal the older gray-haired, primly dressed housekeeper.

Kitty blushed and showed her the broken vase remains, "Oh no! I broke Lizzy's vase! What am I supposed to tell her?"

Mrs, Reynolds sighed and shook her head, and began to pick up the delicate shards and place them in her apron pocket, "You aren't going to tell her anything. She won't care, Miss Catherine. Pemberly has many vases, this one was of no importance I assure you."

Kitty could not help but feel rather bad about breaking such a thing as she helped the woman gather the pieces. She ran her thumb over the smooth edge of half a painted tree. Such a beautiful thing to be broken… They disposed of the shards and Mrs. Reynolds left without another word.

_I need to stop being so destructive,_ Kitty realized as she let herself fall back onto the chair to the writing desk. But as she sat there, glancing around the chamber her eyes only went back to the crumbled letter sitting on the desk which had caused her whole temper tantrum in the first place.

Kitty's chamber was uncommonly large. Well, to her anyway. She felt like a tiny pea rattling around in it. The walls were all white, the drapes lace, and the furniture a dark, ebony wood. But she could not deny it was beautiful. A thousand times more so than her bedroom at Longbourn. The portrait of a beautiful lady with wavy black hair sat smiling down over her. Upon asking, Kitty had learned that it was Mr. Darcy's mother at age nineteen.

There were other decorations as well. There were two tables in the center of the room (one of which carrying the now broken vase) and other sorts of glass art. An ebony book case was up against the far wall containing a few novels, of which Kitty had looked through on her first week at Pemberly and decided only to read them if utterly, desperately bored, which she had been fortunate enough to never be so.

The bed was as uncommonly large as the room was. The puffy pillows and blanket felt like clouds. The canopy and curtains were a soft see-through gauzy fabric that Kitty had accidentally torn in one of her fits, but she sewed it up fairly well herself. The wooden floor was as dark an ebony as any of the furniture and waxed to excellent slipperiness, so Kitty could slide about it in her sock feet.

There were several chairs places about (really just to take up space) and the desk against one of the side walls where two quills and several bottles of ink sat, accompanied by several sheets of paper in the drawer. And, of course, Kitty kept her book of fairy tales on the ebony end table by the bed for easy access.

She flicked the crumbled ball of paper off of the desk with her finger and watched it settle on the floor below. She was motivated to not go into such a fit as she did before, by rereading it. Lydia needed her help, that much was certain. But whom could she possibly turn to?

Lizzy would be no help at all, but only lecture about how her actions were inappropriate and she deserved what she got. Indeed, as Lizzy came back from her journey with their aunt and uncle after news of Lydia's elopement reached them and Kitty couldn't help but notice how her elder sister clearly seemed more distressed about their family name and the embarrassment it would bring, than her sister's actual safety.

Kitty could care less about embarrassment if it happened to be about Lydia. Lydia was her best friend, couldn't they all see that? She would not disown her for such an action! She would pick Lydia before Lizzy or Jane or their parents, or even Mary, because she was, and always would be, her best friend. Nothing could change that. So why was Lizzy so convinced that she could turn her against her?

No, she could not ask Lizzy for advice. Mary could not be reached until her three-week journey to America was finished, and even then Kitty didn't know how to address such a letter anyway. And then it would take three weeks to get to Baltimore, and then three weeks again. Lydia could not wait that long.

Kitty's shoulders slumped and her head sank into her hands in despair. She was surrounded by maids and other people here at Pemberly, including her sister and her husband. But she was completely, utterly, absolutely alone.

.x.X.x.

"What is it, Kitty?" Lizzy inquired, "Why aren't you eating?"

Kitty looked into her sister's face and wanted more than anything to tell her the truth. But she couldn't do that to Lydia. She sat at the supper table with Mr. Darcy at the head as always and Lizzy directly to his left. Mr. Sutter, a friend of both Mr. Darcy's and Mr. Hurst's sat at his right, while Kitty sat a while down. Mr. Sutter barely glanced at her before returning to his plate of food.

"I am just not hungry, I suppose," she answered shyly.

In truth, she was revolted. Her stomach was completely tied in knots and the thought of swallowing a single crumb made her gag reflects engage. No, Kitty thought she might puke just from watching other people eat. How could she eat when her own sister was in such a horrid situation? So our heroine had no appetite that evening.

"Well, now, Mr. Sutter how has your father been fairing?" Mr. Darcy asked, conversationally, "I hear he has been quite ill."

"Indeed, I have received intelligence that my father is late as we speak," Mr. Sutter replied, "He traveled to Scotland—we have an estate in Aberdeenshire, convinced that perhaps the country air would cure him healthy again. It seemed the traveling was too much for his weak state."

"That is truly horrible," Lizzy sympathized, "Please accept our condolences."

"Indeed, I thank you, madam," Mr. Sutter bowed his head.

Mr. Sutter was beautiful. Well, as much so as a man can be. The instant Kitty set eyes on him at a ball some month ago she was infatuated. Now _he _would make a fine husband, where Strat would not. Mary boldly had introduced her, and she found him rather agreeable when they spoke. But of course he had not spoke a word to her after that same ball, since she had been standing next to Mary when she threw cake in Miss Bingley's face after she'd called Lydia a whore.

He likely thought her some savage, which was not far from the truth. (Indeed, we know that Catherine Bennet can be exceedingly savage-like if she is upset to a certain point.) It didn't bother her too much at first, but at that dinner table the more she looked at him, the more she could imagine being his wife. He was not horribly old—not yet thirty. His perfect features, blonde hair and blue eyes made him look alike to a Greek god in statue form. The very picture of Apollo!

And rich too! Especially now that his father was dead. Kitty had heard around enough to overhear that he was the only son and his only heir. The Sutter fortune, their grand house in London, and their country estate in Aberdeenshire was comfortably belonged to him. Kitty saw something like a czar in him. Well, he would be the closest she could possibly get, considering the current czar was miles and miles away in Russia, and not to mention already married.

So it really was a pity her sister threw cake in someone's face in his immediate presence. _Well,_ she reasoned with herself, smiling, _was it not worth it to see Miss Bingley covered in cake?_ And in all complete honesty, she resolved that indeed it was.

But how could she be thinking such things while Lydia was in such peril? Poor, poor Lydia. People had no right to blame her! She was only sixteen. Sixteen-year-old girls make mistakes, do they not? Lydia was simply a young, thoughtless girl, who surely could not be held responsible for such a deed!

She excused herself directly after dinner and hid in her chambers and reread _Repunzel_, although somehow the story did not hold it's usual charm.

.x.X.x.

The very next day, Kitty could not stand to stay in her chamber, staring at herself in the mirror another minute. She had not yet replied to Lydia's letter, for a horrible unsure feeling in her stomach of what to say in such a reply. How could she promise to visit her soon when she knew well she could not? And how could she say something that would make her detrimental situation better when she knew well she could not? Kitty did not claim to know very much in the way of life itself, was still trying to decipher her own circumstances. She quite simply was as helpless as Lydia on the subject.

And that is quite what set her to haunting about Pemberly, watching a slow drizzling rain tap against the windows. Pemberly was large and grand. She never seemed to quite get used to such finery. Such grandeur. She almost smiled as she remembered Mary's distaste for the place. Well, they had stuck her in the attic for a night, had they not? She felt the edges of her mouth curve upwards as she remembered the reunion of the family the previous month and how Mary seemed to drag her feet along the whole visit.

She stopped by a certain window and looked out into the courtyard, and as the water blurred the image into a green and gray smear of color. What would she do about Lydia? The question plagued her mind and would not seem to let her alone.

"Ah, I thought I might find you around here somewhere," a tired, old voice mused from behind her, causing a chill to run down her spine and for the hair on the back of her neck to stand straight as she whirled around to see just who was in her company.

To her immediate displeasure she saw that Lady Susan hobbled along in her old-fashioned gown and Kitty acknowledged her with a scowl. The old woman grinned at the reaction and stopped to take a quick glance out the window herself, before turning on Kitty.

"Unhappy to see me, are you?" she cackled, "Well, you ought to get more used to not having your way all the time. That's not how life usually works, brat."

"I am not used to having my way!" Kitty huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "And I haven't the slightest clue where you might have gotten such an assumption as that!"

"It is not an assumption, my dear, it is a known observation that I have made of you," Lady Susan countered.

"And why don't you just leave me alone?" Kitty demanded, not caring to appear shy and cultured in front of someone who had a likely idea of her inner, more savage-like disposition anyhow.

"So you do not deny that you are troubled," Lady Susan began to circle about her. Kitty could not help but think of _Little Red Hiding Hood _and how the wolf circled her in the forest.

"Everyone has their problems," Kitty quickly reminded her.

"Perhaps," the old woman agreed, "But would you like to know something else?"

"What?" Kitty remained skeptical that it would be anything good. What could the woman possibly say about her that would be good?

"I see a younger version of myself in you," Lady Susan admitted, stunning Kitty, "Oh yes, don't look to incredulous. I was selfish and horrid. I hurt a lot of people too. Good people… That is mostly why I find you so fascinating."

"I am not selfish!" Kitty desponded, audibly aware she was losing the argument, "Perhaps, self-seeking, but I do believe you honestly must be if you intend to go anywhere with your life!"

"Perhaps," Lady Susan agreed again, "But no one likes a person who only thinks of their own welfare and lives a life of conceit. You may be "successful" by material terms, but not necessarily happy."

"Why are you even talking to me?" Kitty seethed, shaking her fist at the old woman, "I don't need this—I don't!" She proceeded to kick the wall with all of her force (ignoring the immediate pain in her toe) and stomp her foot.

"You are no lady at all," Lady Susan stated, clearly amused, "What a temper you have got. I do evoke being exactly your double many years ago."

She began to grow truly outraged, although only at herself, for letting herself get so out of hand. Getting angry in arguments only happened to make you lose all the worse. She tried to tell that to herself, over and over in hopes that it would sink in and perhaps take effect.

"What do you know?" Kitty asked, breathing to calm herself, "You know nothing about me, or my sister—"

"Your sister?" Lady Susan asked, "What has she got to do with anything?"

Kitty was about to open her mouth to rant on how it was none of her business, but then thought better of it and bit her lip so it may remain closed. She felt her cheeks heat up from accidentally mentioning such a vital thing.

"Are you and she close?" the old woman inquired, fingering the delicate lace around the frame of the window.

Kitty looked down at her feet and even felt tears prickle at her eyes, as much as she tried to hide them and wipe them away. Just the mentioning of how she and Lydia used to be affected her so. The gentle reader must recognize the fact that Kitty rarely cried. If she were upset she would go on a raving rampage, not silently sit down and cry to get it all out. But this time, true tears slipped down her face.

Lady Susan saw this too, and greatly gentled her tone of voice, "Tell me about her, child," she said softly, "Perhaps it can be helped."

"It can't be," Kitty cried bitterly, "I know it cannot, but I somehow keep trying to think of a way that it can! No, poor Lydia is stuck in the most horrid marriage. They no longer love each other any more and he is a nasty gambler so she is quite miserable. And she's so young, too! Only sixteen! Far too young to be condemned to such a life! I am her big sister, I should be able to protect her and make it all better but I can't!" More hot tears rolled down her face as she confessed the whole story to the woman before her.

And then the old woman began cackling. She held on to the window frame as she laughed, Kitty was absolutely floored. She was beyond a tantrum and already sobbing, so she just stared at her in shock. How could she find such a miserable story the least bit humorous?

"Such a trivial matter?" she asked when she had let her giggles die down, "And here I was thinking it serious! She is not happy in her marriage? Then let her divorce him. Quite simple it is!"

"A divorce?" Kitty repeated blankly through her tears, "But surely she could not! Decent women never get a divorce! And it is certainly not smiled upon."

"So says those religious blockheads!" Lady Susan sniffed, "Would not a divorce be preferable to spending the rest of your life married to some idiot? So it is not smiled upon, who really cares of that? Your reputation may be gone, you may even be disowned, but at least you're a free woman."

"Not if you have nowhere else to go," Kitty pointed out.

"It would depend on the situation then," Lady Susan agreed, "If your sister's husband does nothing but gamble all of their money away anyhow, can she really be much worse off?"

And then things began to connect and make sense in Kitty's head. Yes! A divorce! Lydia would never have to set eyes on Wickham again, and they could be together as they always had! Lizzy would likely not have her back at Pemberly, but would not their parents accept her back at Longbourn? Kitty knew her mother would, but was still rather unsure about her father. He never particularly liked the three youngest of his daughters.

Kitty felt a genuine smile begin to cover her face as she wiped the tears away. Lady Susan was smiling too, "I got a divorce myself. Back in 1788. _No one _was getting divorces in those days, it was even more of a taboo than it is now. People have mostly forgotten it now, but I was quite considered unrespectable for the following few years. It really is simply the best alternative many times."

"I shall repeat what you've said," Kitty promised, "And… thank you."

"Not at all. Like I said, you remind me of myself. Every part of you," Lady Susan smiled sheepishly, "Ah, now I was supposed to be defecating myself and then returning to Mrs. Darcy in the north drawing room for tea. I suppose I had better leave you now, Miss Bennet."

"It's Kitty," she corrected.

"Of course, Kitty," Lady Susan smiled and walked on down the hall, Kitty staring after her for five blank seconds before blinking and running off to her chamber to compose a letter to Lydia containing all of Lady Susan's advice.

And somehow, with all of that weight lifted off of her chest, the world seemed a much simpler place.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- I co-wrote this with one of my alter egos, Emily Bronte.**

**Please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title-**** Catherine**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rated-**** T**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing.**

**Serena- Thanks for the reviews I got. By the way, I bought my copy of ****Breaking Dawn**** by Stephanie Meyer and I'm going on and off between reading it and writing this. Just so you know, I'm better than Ms. Meyer…**

**Lorraine Seton-**** Thanks for the compliments and advice! Sorry about the hectic-ness. I'm working on that.**

**llGeekGoddessll-**** Thanks for reading, and the answer to your question is yes. We will hear more from Mary via letters, and I ought to give you a prize because **_**yes **_**the sequel to ****Catherine**** is indeed called ****Lydia.**

**distorted realities-**** I'm glad you find Lady Susan interesting. And thanks for the prediction. This won't give too much away, so I will say it: No, it is not the last we'll hear of Strat. Thanks for reading.**

_Chapter Three…_

_Mr. Sutter truly is beautiful,_ Kitty mused, rubbing her chin as she pretended to read her book in the parlor by Lizzy and Mr. Darcy.

And he was. He was a god. Czars even seemed unimportant to Kitty now. Czars didn't necessarily speak English, and would she wasn't sure she would be able to stand going all the way to Russia where it was likely horribly cold and so far from home. It would take eons for a single letter to reach Lydia, and even more _eons_ for a single letter to reach Mary in America.

No, Mr. Sutter was better than a czar anyhow. He surely wasn't as rich as a czar, but what did it matter? Kitty actually might have a chance with him. He was staying at Pemberly until he would return to London for his father's funeral. Why could not he return with a wife? And why could that wife not be Kitty?

She would make a happy Mrs. Sutter.

As he began speaking something (of no interest to Kitty whatsoever) to Mr. Darcy, she wrinkled her nose and realized that he likely did not even see her at all. Anything he _did _see when they first met was gone now. If she were lucky. If anything, he thought her the cake-throwing savage that her sister was, as I've described in the previous chapter.

Perhaps he was turned on by the girl who was the sister of a completely shunned daughter who ran away to halfway across the world. Could it all be that convenient? Kitty laughed silently at her own folly at the thought. _No,_ she thought better of herself, _Things will not do as they are. _I've _got to put myself foreword. A version of myself _everybody _will be forced to like. And then how can he refuse me?_

_Even if my sister does throw cake,_ she added silently after a good while, her confidence dropping.

She continued to rub her chin and gaze slightly up at Mr. Sutter speaking with Mr. Darcy, the words slipping right past her ears, but as she did, Kitty plotted. Now, contrary to popular belief, there is absolutely nothing wrong with a plotting, scheming heroine such as our own. The story of a girl with such a lack of ambition would be truly dull. Catherine Bennet has plenty of ambition, which the gentle reader will come to realize likely before this chapter is over, if not at least before her story reaches its close. And so a plotting, scheming heroine we have; and not only that, but as she plots and schemes, it strictly is her own best interests at heart.

She has already hurt one in her plans for herself. And no one knows how many more could join the numbers before she is finally settled. But will she ever be satisfied. Kitty pushed these thoughts and others doubting her own judgment from her mind and chided herself to keep her mind only on winning over Mr. Sutter.

Which she would do.

_Oh,_ she would do it all right.

As sure as she was alive, and as sure as she knew her ending would be just like it was in _Vasilissa the Beautiful._

.x.X.x.

So the very next noon after tea, as Lizzy proposed a walk, Kitty saw her chance. All she had to do was be charming, polite, feminine, and… nice looking. As soon as she realized what was taking occurance, she bade Lizzy wait for her as she quickly ran up to her bedchamber. The day gown she had on was mint green. Kitty had never felt like she could pull of such a color, though her hair was dark. (She found that when blondes wore green it made their skin appear so also.) But her eyes were not green, and the juxtaposition just looked wrong. She also realized it would be strange if she changed her dress randomly, so she decided it would be much more prudent to keep it on; which is rather surprising considering our heroines lack of prudent thoughts at the present time. Surely the gentle reader knows that a prudent girl would never have such a plan in the first place.

In the close, she pinched color into her cheeks and made sure her hair was done perfectly by taking each pin out and combing it before putting it back up again. She made sure there was nothing stuck in her teeth, before she heard Lizzy calling for her, wondering aloud what on earth she was doing. Kitty smoothed her skirt and walked slowly and ladylike down the stairs, her head held so high it looked like she was trying to see something written on the ceiling. Unfortunately for Kitty, it took her to get to the bottom on the stairs before she stumbled over her own feet from lack of looking where she was going as she walked.

She did not go all the way down. She quickly held fast to the railing, but her trip was obvious to the spectators (Lizzy, Mrs. Reynolds, a bored looking housemaid, and Mr. Sutter). She no longer needed the pinched flush in her cheeks because she felt her face and neck burn in embarrassment. Kitty rarely ever tripped. It is not a very common occurrence for anyone, really. But as soon as she was _trying _to appear well-bred, she made a complete moron of herself. How did that happen, anyway?

She continued on, and snapped at the others, assuring them that, _yes,_ she was perfectly alright as they showered her with such a question. Kitty was angry now, but did not throw a fit like she would have done had she been in a room by herself. No. She had to appear good-natured for today. She straightened herself out, and they all continued as if nothing ever happened.

The September wind was rather chilly, and it was more visible that the leaves were all turning. In all, it was a lovely autumn day, the sun was not to bright, nor was the ground too dry, the two utmost downsides to summer weather. Although Kitty was rather sad to see the summer go. Much more green, the sky was much larger and much bluer, and the sun only intensified those colors. She simply didn't enjoy autumn colors as much.

Half of a pearl-like moon was visible in the blue sky. As a child she always thought it odd how the moon would show itself in the day. But today she decided it more likely than not only added to the scene. The garden was dead, and not lovely in the slightest, and with such a breezy day on their hands, Kitty could hear the clanking of the iron gate as it swung back and forth, following the whimsical wind with utter devotion. It was perhaps even eerie. The autumn is often thought of as so, seeing as it is as Hallows Eve takes place, and the sounds the wind creates echoed so loudly in her ears, Kitty half expected time to randomly freeze, leaving her staring at the stilled, silenced trees, and the stilled, silenced world around her.

The dirt path made clouds of dust where they put their feet down, and Kitty sidled right up to Mr. Sutter, letting herself forget her most embarrassing fall back on the stairs.

"And how has your morning been, Mr. Sutter?" she began pleasantly, and smiling warmly. Usually when she tried to get a man's attention, he was much easier prey, or Lydia was there. When Kitty was compared to Lydia, she couldn't charm her way out of a paper bag and she knew it. But she didn't think about that, either.

"Well," was his lone, solitary, short, even rather cold reply. It sort of puzzled Kitty. She hadn't expected for it not to work instantly. Well, his father had just died, hadn't he? _That must be it_, she reasoned. Perhaps with a little more kind words he'd open right up. She quickly resumed her smile on that head.

"Marvelous," she began sweetly, simpering in a way she would have likely found disgusting before, but desperate times called for desperate measures, "And are not you sad to see the summer go? Although I dare say the autumn here in Derbyshire is certainly lovely—"

"Indeed, Miss Bennet," he interrupted her before she even finished that statement, in a similar manner as before—exceedingly uninviting. In all honesty, she was at rather a complete loss of what to do, or perhaps in this case, what to say.

Mr. Sutter was being rather cruel to her. Especially considering that he had been so pleasant to her before. Before the cake… Kitty didn't have the heart to try to strike up any conversation again, because she was quite sure he'd just shoot down all of her pleasantries and ignore her, hardly being civil at all. And Kitty hated it when people were impolite to her. So perhaps she was not the most ladylike girl all of the time, but she was rarely ever openly rude.

Upon realizing she would not speak to him again, Mr. Sutter began taking larger steps and doing so faster. Kitty watched him as he sped along the path ahead of her over to Lizzy, was doing all she could to keep from slapping her forehead. How stupid she had been to think that such a thing would even work at all! Tears pricked at Kitty's eyes, as rejection filled her heart.

This meant she would be an old maid like Miss Bingley, didn't it? Crabby and sitting about knitting under things for her whole life as she grew older and older and haglike. The thought was pondered upon in haste, for it has little veracity, and even less sense to it. Of course, Kitty had not the maturity to realize it. As her eyes grew watery, she swallowed deeply. In the seconds before tears formed, she turned to Lizzy.

"I apologize, but I forgot I was to make a call today. I am afraid I will have to quit you to Mr. Sutter, and I shall see you this afternoon, Elizabeth," she spoke quickly, and did not wait for a response as she lifted her skirt to her ankles and hurried down a fork in the path, leading out to Pond-on-Avon. At first, this action was simply so that no one would see her blubbering. She stepped over rose bushes, cutting across the way and off to the gate.

What an idiot she had been! How truly, truly stupid! The embarrassment of her plan gone awry, caused her to squirm in shame. Frustrated with herself, she kicked Pemberly's iron gate multiple times until her large tow burned in pain. Kitty ripped her bonnet off and threw it down on the ground as hard as she could and dug her nails into her palms. She threw a perfectly silent tantrum, aware that both Mr. Sutter and her sister were not that far away yet.

As she attempted to gather herself, she ran on. Not quite thinking of anything, only how upsetting this was, and heading straight for Lady Susan's address. No, she did not suppose she could stand the sight of Mr. Sutter or Lizzy at the moment, and she greatly suspected she might commit murder if she left herself alone. Of course, she was still a bit of a raging lunatic by the time she was banging on the front door of the large, fancy house with the perfectly done garden. Indeed, Lady Susan seemed to be exceedingly wealthy, especially when considering her abode of grandeur. The large pillars in front were perhaps Kitty's first clue to lead her to such a supposition on the subject of wealth.

The butler that opened the door eyed her strangely and asked her crisply for her business. He was cleanly shaven and perhaps forty years old in a black suit and held his nose rather higher than an average person would be inclined to, but still not as high as Kitty held hers when she had tripped earlier on the stairs.

She introduced herself as Catherine Bennet and that she simply must see Lady Susan as soon as possible. He made an expression down at her (without lowering his nose a single inch somehow) that seemed to say, "I usually never let riffraff like you in a good respectable place,"

Kitty then realized that her gown up to her knees was covered in all of the mud puddles she'd ignored and she'd left her bonnet at Pemberly so the hair she'd so carefully redone for Mr. Sutter had pretty much fallen around her shoulders, utterly tangled. She did her best to tuck the whole mess behind her ears.

"Lady Susan knows me," she pleaded, "Tell her Kitty is here to see her!"

He gave her a very similar look as from before, but did made a slight inclination of the head in her general direction and what seemed in a regretful manner, sighed, "Very well."

He gracefully walked off, leaving Kitty staring after him, wondering if indeed he was really walking, as opposed to floating an inch above the ground. The front hall of the house was much nicer than Pemberly's, It was all marble with golden chandeliers and a lovely mural decorated the impossibly high ceiling with lovely pink and white clouds with beautiful angels. She hadn't even noticed that she'd subconsciously taken several steps inside to get a closer look at it all.

She had noticed this in particular, as the butler returned, obviously not happy with her for not staying not staying on the doorstop, but could do nothing of it, since Lady Susan had indeed agreed to see her. He bade she follow him, as he frowned at her muddy boots on the lovely marble floor. Kitty grimaced and tried to walk lighter, as if that would help shed less filth in the house.

Each room seemed to be lovelier than the next (excluding the front hall) and by the time they reached the drawing room where Lady Susan sat, Kitty was sure Buckingham Palace could not have been lovelier, although of course, the gentle reader knows that Lady Susan's house was nothing compared to Buckingham Palace, we must forgive Kitty for her quickness of incorrect thought.

And Lady Susan did not seem to notice Kitty's muddiness, when her butler sure did. She smiled warmly and threw down the old brown book she was reading and bade the butler leave them.

"Take a seat, Kitty," she motioned to any of the chairs. And when she saw her having qualms about sitting down, she sighed, "Do not worry of soiling them, they can be cleaned."

Kitty nodded and sat down, still frowning at the mud.

"Tea?" Lady Susan offered hospitably.

"No thank you," Kitty cleared her thought, before everything that had happened before with Mr. Sutter came rushing forwards so fast, that the tears that she had attempted to dry before came to her eyes again. She made a small sob as she remembered Mr. Sutter's facial expression towards her.

Lady Susan did not pat her back, nor did she try to comfort her out of crying, but only handed her a handkerchief from her pocket and silently watched her cry after Kitty had accepted it. She did not interrupt once. And although it could very likely be mistaken for lack of concern of sympathy, it truly was not. Kitty was glad to cry it all out. She wouldn't be able to speak very well afterwards if she still had it all in her system. And when she finally was done, she wiped her red, wet eyes one last time, and then blew her nose loudly.

Kitty wrung the handkerchief in her hands nervously before she looked up into the somewhat collected face of Lady Susan. The tears had stopped but her eyes and cheeks were both red and irritated. She breathed deeply to calm herself.

"Now, I see that this is obviously not a mere social visit," the old woman mused, "Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Kitty?"

Kitty hiccupped and nodded. She began with an account on how she is expected to marry soon. Lady Susan only nodded slowly to that, understanding what it is to be an almost eighteen-year-old girl herself. And then Kitty launched into describing Mr. Sutter.

"But he'll have nothing to do with you?" Lady Susan asked, finishing Kitty's speech rapidly.

"No," Kitty agreed, "And I have no idea what to do—"

Lady Susan cut her off by making a loud snort—not something Kitty usually never heard a lady do, most especially one of Lady Susan's status. It shut her right up, however.

"Do not do anything. If he does not want you, you are not going to make him, you know."

"How do you know that?" Kitty demanded, sitting more in an upright position than she had been in a few seconds ago.

"Do you love him?"

"No, but—"

"Then it's that simple," Lady Susan concluded, "He obviously does not care one bit for you, and you only care for his money, so the match is not looking like a very good one as it is."

"But then what am I supposed to do about finding a husband?" Kitty wanted to know sourly, mostly because the old woman before her spoke pure truth.

"Wait. Do not force it to happen. You may find someone who wants to marry you for exactly who you are, and vise-versa. If I were you, Kitty, I would not settle for anything else until I had just that."

"You mean you want me to marry _Strat?"_ Kitty practically screamed in surprise, her voice going shrill. Lady Susan merely blinked in surprise of her own at the sudden outburst.

"And pray tell, who is Stat?" the old woman calmly asked, and Kitty realized that Lady Susan would have no idea who Stat even was. She was more than a bit frustrated with herself by this point in the conversation that was clearly going nowhere.

"Oh, never mind," she said, sighing, "He's just a boy I know."

But the old woman would not leave it alone. Suddenly, her face pricked up, her eyes brightened and she was exceedingly intrigued in the conversation now that a second suitor had entered the ring. Kitty rubbed her temples in distaste as she pondered the thought.

"And does he love you?"

"_No!"_

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because he's only twenty-one, still a student, and the most foolish young thing I've ever seen!" Kitty seethed.

"Those aren't reasons why he wouldn't love you," Lady Susan pointed out wisely.

"But they are reasons why I wouldn't love him, which are just as good," Kitty countered.

"I do not see how they are connected at all. Perhaps it would not look good if you married such a person, but it will not prevent you from loving him," Lady Susan explained.

"I do not love Strat," Kitty said firmly through gritted teeth.

"Very well," the old woman held her hands up in defense and obviously simply did not feel like arguing with her, "But I do feel sorry for the fellow. In love with a girl who has her sights set for some rich man who would never glance in her direction twice."

That did it. Kitty stood up and stomped her foot in anger, "He brings in upon himself!" she railed, "If he didn't always bring the subject up I would not hurt him so much"

"Perhaps," Lady Susan hedged, "But maybe the feeling of telling you he loves you is worth the pain when you shoot him down."

That last statement left Kitty speechless, but at the same time trembling in anger. How did she… what right did… Kitty threw the handkerchief down on the floor with as much force as she had, and managed to find her tongue again.

"That is the sickest thing I have ever heard!" she let loose her whole temper on the woman before her, "That kind of thing does not even exist! And further more, I bet you got that very line out of a gothic novel, anyway!"

"Did I?" Lady Susan seemed amused by this notion, "I assure you I did not. I will not deny it is sick, but true also, I'm afraid."

"It is not true!" Kitty blustered.

"I am old enough to be your grandmother, Kitty," Lady Susan sighed, "I do believe I would know better—I've seen much more of life than you have."

Kitty did not feel much better, but did sit down, clenching her fists and trying to breath it all out. _I cannot get so angry all the time_, she thought to herself, over and over. She looked up to see whether or not Lady Susan was done speaking.

"Well, I will not say anything more about this Strat, but do take my advice and forget Mr. Sutter," she was saying.

As much as it wounded Kitty's pride to think it, she did realize it was a very foolish idea to try to lure such a man. _Any _man, really. Happy relationships did not start that way.

"And if he does not want you, do not feel angry, feel sorry for him. If he does not see the good in you, that is hardly your fault. You can do better, Kitty."

She even broke into a smile. As she left, she even promised to visit again soon. So perhaps the old woman did have some good advice to give. _Even if she is dead-wrong about Strat and I,_ she thought. On the walk back to Pemberly, she had the misfortune to hear a horribly familiar voice call out, "Kitty!"

Before she even turned her head in the direction in which it was coming from she knew just who it was. Taliaferro Stratton. _Will that boy not leave me alone to my miserable life?_ Kitty demanded to herself.

She stopped walking, and heard his footsteps as he ran up to her. Slowly, she turned to face him. How likely was it that she'd see him so quickly after having such a conversation about him? Her sort of luck… She did not look up into his eyes, but simply stared straight ahead at his chin instead, concentrating on not losing her face.

"I need to go home, Strat," she began, a huge lump in her throat.

"Kitty, look at me," he begged, "Please."

Though it hurt, she did. Strat's face looked same as ever, and she surprised even herself by keeping herself together so well and not bursting into tears again. That would be rather embarrassing to do in front of Strat.

"You still won't have me?" he whispered.

"Please stop asking," she said softly, wondering if he was feeling as Lady Susan had said. _No,_ she told herself, _of course not!_

"Do not think that I do not know about the man staying at Pemberly as well as you—Mr. Sutter was it," Strat said bitterly, "I know all about him, probably more about him than you do."

Kitty parted her lips and slowly shook her head as she took a step back from him, "I don't understand…"

"Kitty," he seemed seconds from tears now, "I love you more than that bastard ever could!"

She glared at him, "Mr. Sutter never looks at me twice, for your information. Do you think someone as wealthy as him could think that way about a girl like me?" She spoke the truth for the first time, and for once it did not leave acid in her mouth.

"Really?" he demanded, "Because if he thinks that way, he's a fool! You're worth more than every last penny in the world, Kitty!"

"Strat, stop," she sighed, raising her hand to silence him, "You don't even know what you are saying. You do not even know me that well…"

"Sure I do," he argued, "I know you better than anyone else. Better than your fool of a sister, Mrs. Darcy knows you. I do not think she had ever seen you pitch a fit or yell like you do around me. And I love you for that. No other girls get angry—"

"Good-bye, Strat," Kitty quickly interrupted him and turned on her heel and ran. He did not follow her, but she did not look back to see what he did do. She would never know.

And as the writer, I sincerely hope that the gentle reader will never have to be in such a situation as our heroine was in that afternoon. To hurt someone so much it hurt her as well. To want to make someone happy by saying, 'yes,' but being forced to say, 'no' out of nothing but prudence that barely even made sense to her. It was truly maddening, and Kitty could not even remember a time when she had felt so horrible and undeserving.

But what exactly was her logic behind her decision? Well, so Mr. Sutter would never marry her. But Strat was certainly not someone she could marry, either. There would be other men, wouldn't there? So if the two people she had her eye on wouldn't work out, just drop them and move on. Life went on, right?

But those thoughts did little. She still felt as low as a rug when she stumbled back in the front doors of Pemberly and ignored Mrs. Reynolds as she gasped at how muddy she was. The chilly wind stopped as soon as she stepped through the threshold and felt warmth rush in her pores. As she passed through the drawing room, she saw Lizzy eye her shrewdly.

"Kitty?" she began, "Kitty, what on earth happened?"

She realized she was likely talking about what a mess she looked, and just blankly shrugged her shoulders. _What do you think happened, you miserable cur?_ She thought bitterly, _how does anyone get mud on them?_

"You look horrible, did someone say something to you?" she continued. Kitty realized she was not talking about her appearance but more of the emotions she was currently expressing. That would be harder to answer without giving too much away.

"I assure you it's nothing at all, Lizzy," Kitty said quietly, just wanting to get up to her chambers to take a hot bath and go to bed and never come back out.

"It's not Lydia, is it?" she looked at her suspiciously, "You owe her none of you sympathy. Think no more of her, write her no more—She chose her life, Kitty."

Kitty looked up from her feet and right into her sister's eyes. The words did not form in her head, but instead they seemed to be born directly on her tongue as she spoke them. She spoke slowly and quietly—so quietly it was barely over a mutter, "People make mistakes, Elizabeth. And people can also be forgiven for those mistakes. If not by you, then by me, because Lydia is my sister and I will stand by her."

After making such a speech, Kitty felt rather like Mary. But not quite, the feeling of the words created on her tongue was gone as soon as she'd finished and she was quiet, little Kitty again. She turned to leave the room, but Lizzy called her back once.

"Kitty," she began, "Have you thought any on finding a husband yet?"

Pure pain pulsed through her veins, the pain she had been slightly relieved of when her attention was directed on defending Lydia. She stopped, but did not turn around and lowered her head.

"No, Lizzy."

She continued out of the room and straight up to her bedchamber. As she entered and kicked the door closed behind her, she stared at the white wall and sighed, perhaps trying to shift some of the weight off of her chest in that sigh. Her heart was still as heavy as it had been. It had not been the greatest day for our heroine.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Please review. Grr, I really hate some books—****Breaking Dawn**** by Stephanie Meyer in particular.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

1

**Title- ****Catherine**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rated-**** T**

**Disclaimer- I am nothing but a slave to this story.**

**Serena- Thanks for reading. And thanks for no hate-reviews. Means a lot.**

**distorted realities-**** Thanks for much, you're a great reviewer! Yeah, I liked SOME parts in ****Breaking Dawn****, but really think that Jacob and Leah should have ended up together. Think about it, they'd make a great couple… Anyway, that's mostly why I don't like it—Ms. Meyer and I don't have the same taste in good couples obviously… (SNIFF) Ah, well, I'm done rambling—you're dead on about your depiction of Kitty's disposition, by the way. Thanks again for the review!**

_Chapter Four…_

Kitty did not hate Lizzy. Contrary to what the gentle reader may well believe—Kitty did not dislike Elizabeth. In fact, she cared very much for her. She still cared for Lizzy even after all of her faults for the same reasons she still cared about Lydia, even after all of _her_ faults. People make mistakes, and even so—Lizzy was her sister. For better or for worse. So the low, sinking feeling in her stone-heavy heart was not because of the conversation she had just had with Lizzy.

Stupid Strat. He was officially the biggest idiot she'd ever met. Because not only was he making her hurt him, but because he was hurt, she was too. And maybe perhaps something more… Perhaps saying no to him in the first place hurt. She punched her pillow. This wasn't even making sense anymore!

For Kitty, things always made sense. The world was not such a complicated place, honestly. People do things for reasons, and those things affect other people, who will do things in return that reflect how they feel about being affected. That was pretty much the whole chain of how life flowed. And it made sense. But somehow she couldn't apply her situation with Strat back to it, and therefore it made no sense to her.

So… stupid Strat.

And because Kitty was upset she decided to denounce the world.

"I denounce the world!" she sat up, and said icily.

And because she was so upset, she also decided that she was done with love.

"I'm done with love, too," she snapped and stuck her head back under her pillow.

She was, in fact, so upset that she didn't even know what to do with herself anymore. She didn't know what to think. She could only lay there in feel miserable—and at the time, it felt like the only thing she even knew how to do anymore. Like there wasn't even a time where she was happy and carefree. And every time she'd try to remember an easy, carefree day at Longbourn with Lydia, it seemed like the farthest thing in the world. Eons from where she was now.

_I might as well be in prison._

Maybe that was all she needed—to go home. Perhaps she was done with Pemberly and all of the people she'd met there. Perhaps to just be at Longbourn again would be enough. But… Longbourn without Lydia? And not even Mary would be there. Kitty honestly had never felt so alone.

_I'm just on my own for right now,_ she told herself gently. But Kitty had never been on her own before. There was always somebody—her mother, Lydia, Mary, a friend perhaps… But Kitty now realized that her only friend was Lady Susan, and she really did not care to hear what the old woman had to say about Strat, because she'd already heard a good deal of it, and didn't like it one bit.

Perhaps the world was too real for her. She'd rather just dance around in a fairly tale, like _Vassilissa the Beautiful_ and marry a czar and live happily ever after. Kitty pondered that. Why didn't people live happily ever after in real life? It would be so much nicer and easier. Yes, if there were one prince per every scorned, unhappy young maiden…

_That must be why real life is different,_ she realized with a sigh, _there would have to be millions and millions of princes in the world._ _So a few lucky young things might marry a prince, but as for the rest of us… well, we'll just have to settle for less. Or perhaps hope for all of the Mr. Sutters in the world._ She stroked her chin as she pondered on.

What if there were no such things as males and females? Everybody was just the same sex? And in order to reproduce, people would just plant a seed in a pot and put it under their bed for the night, and when they woke up there would just be a baby there? That was where Kitty wanted to live. And she and Lydia would have never been separated like this, and Strat wouldn't exist. Kitty closed her eyes and imagined it all. How lovely it would be.

But when she opened her eyes again she was still scrunched in a tight ball in her chamber at Pemberly, in the world where there _was _different sexes and love and all sorts of other horrible, far-too-real things.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid,_ Strat.

.x.X.x.

Unfortunately for Kitty, she could not stay in bed all day. She could claim a headache and be in bed for half of a day, but as the minutes inched past one o'clock, she decided that if she didn't get up and move her legs she'd go mad. So she dressed herself and paced around the room, until she thought she'd go mad anyway. She flung open the window and leaned out, smelling the sweet air. The wind played with the hairs that had escaped her braid and has she took a deep, deep breath down to the core of her being she even felt normal again.

She tried to smile. It just felt like she was grimacing in pain instead so she gave up on that. She tried to laugh. It sounded so forced and fake that it just depressed her more. Kitty's thoughts went back to Kitty. She sure wished she would hurry up and divorce bloody Wickham so they could go and be together at Longbourn and forget this whole nightmare ever happened.

Kitty then imagined hitting Wickham in the head repeatedly with a croquet bat. What a horrid man he was, indeed. What sort of person took such an advantage over a fickle, young girl like Lydia? And that got Kitty angry rather than depressed, which was an emotion she knew much more about handling. After throwing three innocent books against the wall, she finally decided to walk down to the drawing room to let Lizzy know she was still alive.

"Feeling better, I hope?" Lizzy asked as she entered.

"Much, thank you," Kitty answered pleasantly and took a seat beside her sister, "Have I missed much?"

"Oh yes, Mrs. Hatter has decided to send her son to a military academy," Lizzy began urgently.

"How dreadful!" Kitty exclaimed, but Elizabeth did not seem to share her opinion.

"No, it's wonderful. Think what a fine young man he'll become. The military is an admirable thing for someone to join. We should all be quite proud of him!"

Kitty only twisted her mouth and gave her sister a side-glance. What did Lizzy know about the military anyway? Of course, Kitty did not claim to know much about it herself, but would certainly be more of an authority on the subject out of the two. For most of the months after she'd turned seventeen, her and Kitty both had spent many hours each day with officers from the Hertfordshire militia. They did not often speak of being in the military but more of mindless flirting topics with her and Lydia, but every once in a while it did come up.

It was hardest when they were taken from home at such a young age. The schools were strict and rather awful if you were still young. And many of them had been at sea and fought against the French, which was a horrifying experience in itself. When asked, most of the officers agreed they would indeed rather not have joined the military at all, but it was what they had been trained to do for their whole lives and could hardly start over then. But Kitty also did not bother trying to explain this to Lizzy, doubtful that she could possibly understand.

"Indeed," was all she said.

"And I trust that your headache has gone?" her sister continued.

"Yes," Kitty answered, cocking her head to look out the window, "And it seems to be going on two o'clock—I've missed two meals. Lizzy, do you suppose if I went down to the kitchen one of the cooks would feed me something?"

Kitty did feel famished. It was a strangely human thing to feel after such a night of bawling her eyes out over that idiot, Strat. In fact, a buttered slice of bread and some bacon sounded like the most beautiful thing to her at that moment.

"Stay seated," Lizzy laughed, "Mrs. Reynolds may bring you a something to eat here."

Mrs. Reynolds was called and Lizzy asked her to see what was down in the kitchen at the moment and to perhaps bring her sister something nice. The housekeeper frowned.

"The late Mrs. Darcy would have never permitted food in her drawing room," she stated with so much authority that Kitty thought Elizabeth would consent for her to simply eat down in the kitchen.

But she did not, "Oh, stuff and bother!" she snorted, "It isn't her drawing room anymore is it? So there, she won't have to deal with it—I will."

Kitty made a small giggle.

"But, Mrs. Darcy…" Mrs. Reynolds looked positively floored by her response, and her hand rose to her mouth in shock. She was at a complete loss of what to say. And perhaps rather angry as well.

"So go and tell my husband what I've said," Lizzy told her calmly, pushing a dark curl back from her face, "I dare say he will not care that his sister-in-law is doing something his mother wouldn't have approved of."

"How can you say that?" the housekeeper wanted to know, "I do believe I know him better than yourself. He thinks very highly of his mother."

"I am sure he does," Lizzy countered coolly, "But whose wishes is he more likely to respect: yours or mine? I like to have faith in the fact that what I do for him is much more appreciated than you keeping the house."

Both Kitty and Mrs. Reynolds saw instantly what Elizabeth was talking about, as for _what she does _for Mr. Darcy. If the gentle reader still does not understand, I ask only that they think very long and hard on it, and the answer will become obvious. But the housekeeper had to admit defeat then. The new woman at Pemberly had much more power than her.

"Oh, my mistress is likely rolling in her grave now," Mrs. Reynolds muttered, turning towards the door.

After she'd tartly closed the door behind her, Kitty and Lizzy both fell into fits of laughter at the scene that had just passed. It felt good to laugh—really laugh, not like when she'd forced herself to laugh back in her chambers. The kind of laugh that you couldn't keep inside you even if you wanted to, and it is forced out of your mouth in such a way that you can't even think of a feeling that feels better. And the laughs will jolt your body and make you as limp as a rag doll, and sag right out of your chair. And as you begin to laugh so hard that you can barely get a breath in, your face turns red and tears pour down your cheeks.

Kitty was quite sure that Mrs. Reynolds was not yet out of earshot for what a racket they were making, but neither of them particularly cared.

"_The late Mrs. Darcy would have never permitted food in her precious, precious drawing room!"_ Lizzy mimicked, her face flushed as she held Kitty's hand.

"Oh, I bet she is indeed rolling in her grave over the notion of bread crumbs in her parlor!" Kitty laughed.

"Heaven forbid!"

And very reluctantly did Mrs. Reynolds return with a plate of buttered biscuits and a few chucks of cheese. A small slice of cake was off to the side, and it seemed that the cook insisted it be served with tea, because Kitty very highly doubted that the housekeeper would be so thoughtful.

"Thank you," she murmured, as the tray was set before her on the table. It did look like the most delicious thing she'd ever set eyes on. Hunger was not a thing Kitty felt often either.

She dug into the biscuits first, chewing and swallowing so quickly she was even strained for breath. Lizzy laughed at her horrid manners, and Kitty silently offered her some, but the offer was declined. And the food did send Kitty's thoughts back into focus. She was biting into the last biscuit when another knock was heard on the door.

"Yes?" Lizzy asked, as Kitty kept eating, not dubbing it worthy of her attentions.

Mrs. Reynolds reentered, and for the briefest of seconds Kitty thought that perhaps she'd heard them mimicking her and came back to shout an angry retort. She also decided that that would have been one of the most interesting things that had happened since she came to Pemberly and even got her hopes up for such a thing. But her spirits sunk as she realized it was not anger on the woman's face.

"There is a gentleman here," she began, "To see _her."_

Kitty looked up, crumbs falling off of her lip to see that Mrs. Reynolds was looking directly at her. This surprised her, causing her to frown through her mouthful of half-chewed biscuit. Who would drag themselves all the way to Pemberly just to see her? She pondered for a minute and came up with this thought: _It had better not be Strat…_

The housekeeper looked to Lizzy.

"Well, send him in," her sister said as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. In fact, Elizabeth was the one in the room with the clearest mind at the present. Mrs. Reynolds was far too shocked that someone would possibly ask for her, and Kitty the same. Only Lizzy was in her right mind.

The statement broke through to Mrs. Reynolds who turned away to bring the "gentleman" into the drawing room before him. Kitty took the time to cram more food into her mouth, for she was not completely full yet. When the door reopened, Mrs. Reynolds appeared and behind her was a man that Kitty could honestly say she had never seen before in her life. Indeed, that explained how suspicious Mrs. Reynolds was, for the man was easily forty if he was a day, and looked to be more of a city dweller than a country man. How could _Catherine Bennet _have come into the acquaintance of such a man? Quite suspicious, indeed…

And Kitty was floored. How could this mysterious, older man claim to know her at all? She was still a little too hungry to stare at him unmolested, and did eat as she studied his countenance and dearly wondered what could possibly be going through her sister's mind at the time.

The man was tall and dark and took off his hat as his dark eyes scanned the room, "Miss Bennet?" he questioned, looking from Kitty to Lizzy. Lizzy silently motioned to her sister.

Kitty spoke through her full mouth, aware of her atrocious manners, but only able to do little about them, "I am she." But it did rather sound more like, "Ah'm shree."

He raised his eyebrows at her but nothing more, indeed he seemed to be more of the serious type of person, "I am here on the behalf of the will of Lady Susan Carter, of whom I am afraid to report passed away at nine o'clock this morning…"

Kitty was about to swallow, but choked and had to cough up every piece of food in her mouth as the man began to speak. Lizzy thumped her back heartily, and wrinkled her nose at the half-chewed cheese she spat back onto the tray. The man merely looked utterly disgusted but kept talking in a similar formality he had used in his tone before the interruption.

"A slight change was made to her will before that time, leaving everything in her possession to a Catherine Bennet," he said her name as he wrinkled his nose and looked back at her tray where her coughed-up cheese was splashed and then looked rather green himself.

Kitty was perhaps even too shocked to think perfectly straight. Lady Susan was dead? Logic argued that was hardly something to be surprised over. She was quite old, and people younger than her died all the time. A pang of sorrow ate at her heart—as much as she was angered over most of the things she said, Lady Susan _had _been a friend. Even if only for the few days they had known each other. And then the second half of his statement sunk in. A slight change to her will that left everything in her possession to _her?_ This was where Kitty no longer even knew what to think.

The man cleared his throat, obviously not finished, "But I am also afraid that it is quite impossible. Her eldest son must inherit the estate, for it must remain in the family, as must her title. The only thing Lady Susan had the _right _to leave you is everything in her bank account in London, which as of today, 4 of October, 1811, is a total of seventy-two thousand pounds and a few family jewels."

It was a good thing she had already spat out what food was still in her mouth, because Kitty surely would have choked until she turned blue and died right there in the late Mrs. Darcy's precious drawing room. And to be frank, that is how our heroine, Catherine Bennet the almost-eighteen-year-old girl, not even in possession of a decent pair of shoes became an exceedingly affluent young lady. Indeed, she quite simply woke up one morning as Kitty Bennet, with only the ten pounds she had in her purse, which her father had given her as she left Longbourn, and went to bed the very same evening worth over seventy thousand pounds.

Lizzy was quite equally shocked, and Mrs. Reynolds had not quite closed the door and was listening the whole time, but at the shock of it all, stepped forward into the room, although Kitty hardly noticed her. Indeed, who could notice an old housekeeper when they had just realized that they were rich?

_I am the most wealthy woman in Derbyshire,_ Kitty thought blankly, _no, the most wealthy person, man or woman._ The man seemed to say all that he had meant to and left, wishing them all a pleasant afternoon, and still with a last utterly disgusted glance at Kitty's cheese. The door closed firmly behind him and Lizzy was the first one to speak.

"Well, I surely did not see that coming," she said, taking a sip of tea, "You're a very wealthy young lady now, Kitty."

"Wealthy?" repeated Mrs. Reynolds, "I would say more than just _wealthy_, she's filthy stinking rich! You could buy half of Derbyshire with that sort of money!"

"It's too bad that you didn't inherit it all," Lizzy giggled, "Then you would have an income on top of that seventy-two thousand. And a fine house."

"I'm sure her son would not have been pleased," Kitty stated, speaking for the first time, her voice sounded hoarse even to herself.

"I am sure he is one very outraged man right now as it is," Mrs. Reynolds put forth, "All of that money cheated of him?"

"Not cheated of him," Lizzy pointed out, "It was Lady Susan's to do with it what she pleased. Obviously she liked our Kitty better than her son anyhow."

"I do wonder why she left it all to me," Kitty pondered aloud, still not quite believing it all.

"I've heard from many sources that he's a foolish, greedy thing. He spent every penny he's got gambling anyhow. Were I Lady Susan I wouldn't leave such a sum of money to him either," Mrs. Reynolds began indifferently.

"And she had to leave it to someone, so it wouldn't go to him. So why not you?" Lizzy finished.

Kitty pressed her lips together and went deeply into thought. For all that Lady Susan had said against her, she must have thought enough of her to leave every penny she had to her. Even after all that she had criticized about her and Strat, and told her she was selfish, and not a lady at all, and with a horrible temper (even though all of this was quite true) she still thought she was worth so much money. Well, hadn't Lady Susan said that she saw an earlier version of herself in her? Was that perhaps why she left Kitty her fortune? Or was it more like what Lizzy said, she needed to leave it to _someone _just so that it would not automatically go to her son. And Kitty just happened to be the first person she could think of.

That may have been part of it. But do you really just leave seventy-two thousand pounds to someone at random? Even if she was trying to prevent her son from getting it, she still must have seen something in Kitty that said she deserved such an amount of money.

And then Kitty broke into a smile. She was rich! She wouldn't need Mr. Sutter anymore. She was likely twice as wealthy as him now. She did suddenly did not feel hungry (partially thanks to the spat-up cheese before her) and went back up to her chamber to think in solitude. As night fell, she undressed and climbed into bed, still deep in thought. She would miss Lady Susan. She still could hardly believe the old woman was gone forever.

_God rest her soul_.

And Kitty barely knew what to do with herself again. When she woke up she would be living day one, of the life of a wealthy woman. And be quite prepared to accept any privileges that came along with it.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Yup. Please review!**


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